Chapter 19 #2
‘I don’t know,’ Gwen answered.
Augusta laughed unkindly. ‘Mrs Walters, you are a woman of the world, like I am, so let me speak to you frankly. Men have appetites that don’t always get satiated at home.
If I were engaged in procuring women – which I do not admit to – I would be providing a means by which men can release the urges that come naturally to them and that are anathema to so many of ours.
’ There was derision in her voice, though Gwen wasn’t certain whether it was directed at her or at men for having such frail temperaments.
‘It’s immoral. It’s debauched,’ Gwen said.
‘Which of those bothers you more? What they are selling, or the act of selling itself?’
Augusta waved a hand dismissively. ‘If I were to be involved in such a thing, I would also be providing a safe refuge for the women who ply their trade. What is the alternative? That they walk the streets and gratify their clients against a wall down a rat-filled alley? That the men quench their desires on their wives or servants, or on unsuspecting women?’
Every answer faltered on Gwen’s lips. Of course, a room inside with someone keeping watch was better than a dank alley, but to admit that would be tantamount to sanctioning it. She moistened her lips and lifted her chin.
‘Do the girls you take in know what they will be committing themselves to?’
‘Most of them see the advantage,’ Selina interjected from her chair.
She tilted her head and smiled serenely.
‘Some of them go on to achieve great things, with powerful patrons and lives of luxury. They are able to move in the highest society circles and influence men in a way you could only imagine. She who holds the member of a Member of Parliament has his ear.’
She laughed merrily, as if she had made the greatest pun. Gwen began to feel a little lightheaded. She had an appalling feeling that Selina was speaking from experience.
‘If you were to set aside the morality that chains you down, a woman with your knowledge and talent could be invaluable in that line of work,’ Augusta said, looking at Gwen with narrowed eyes.
Before Gwen could protest at such an insult, Augusta continued. ‘The women frequently need medical care, but what respectable doctor would treat them? You could do good work for those women.’
Gwen tasted bile, remembering Wolf’s question. ‘Ridding them of unwanted pregnancies?’
Augusta nodded her confirmation. ‘Or preventing them. Would you condemn those poor unfortunates to give birth to unwanted babies, with all the danger and cost that would entail? Not to mention the diseases that afflict them.’
‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ Gwen answered immediately. An unexpected child was a dreadful thing to discover, even with a man who would acknowledge and provide for the offspring, which those women wouldn’t have.
‘It’s something to consider,’ Selina said, bestowing a supercilious smile on Gwen.
Augusta raised a brow and gave Gwen a knowing look. ‘The problem you have, Mrs Walters, is that you are too limited by what society expects of you. If you embraced freedom from conscience, you would be much happier and more successful, as so many women I know are.’
Her eyes burned with the fire of the evangelist. She genuinely believed that she was doing good by the women she spoke of, and that might be worse than if she had been doing it simply for profit.
Gwen opened her mouth and closed it again, not able to articulate an answer. She ran to the door and wrenched it open, blundering her way down the passageway, out past the coffee shop, which she was now certain was nothing more than a front for a brothel, and out onto the pavement.
She ran to the end of the street, not caring what anyone might think of her conduct, and didn’t stop until she was safely away, then leant against the wall of an ironmonger’s shop, breathing heavily.
She should go straight to Jenny, but her heart called her in a different direction.
She knew where Danny was staying, and she wanted the comforting friendship he offered.
Her lip curled derisively at her attempt to deceive herself.
Friendship was an erroneous word to describe what she truly wanted from Danny.
She made her way across the city to his hotel.
It was a smart though modest building, double-fronted, with ornate iron railings and white pillars at either side of the doorway.
Gwen was wearing her lighter summer coat and a straw bonnet decorated with a sprig of silk roses, but still felt dowdy.
She hesitated as she approached, but the doorman, a smiling man of about her own age, held the door open for her.
She walked into the lobby and was immediately transported back over twenty years to the visit she had paid to London with her father.
Like the hotel they had stayed in then, this had mahogany wall panels and plush, crimson carpets which muffled the conversations of guests who sat in a dining room to the right of the entrance.
A grand staircase, with a carved balustrade, curved gracefully up to the upper floors, and directly in front of her was a desk manned by another impeccably dressed man.
She edged towards it. Now that she was here, she was having second thoughts.
It might be best to leave a message for Danny – though how could she encapsulate what she needed to say, and what was that?
She considered an anonymous note, which would not implicate herself, but wasn’t sure what other parties were involved in his search.
She didn’t even know if the coffee house or the barbers were a front for a brothel, and if they were, whether Ruth or Sally were there. It was best to speak to Jenny first.
She was about to leave, when the clerk standing at the front desk gave a discreet cough and beckoned her.
‘Can I help you, madam?’
She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. ‘No, thank you. I was going to pay a friend a visit, but now I’ve decided not to.’
The clerk inclined his head. ‘If you give me your friend’s name, I can inform her you have called.’
Gwen’s neck grew warm. ‘It’s a Mr Parry.’
The clerk’s eyebrow didn’t rise but Gwen was certain it was the result of years of being subtle.
‘Mr Parry is, in fact, in the reading room to your left, if you would like to speak with him now.’
He gestured to the room to the left of the staircase and Gwen saw that Danny was indeed sitting on a Chesterfield in a small room lined with bookcases.
He was facing the front window, but as if he had felt an invisible tug, he turned and looked directly at Gwen.
His eyes widened and he mouthed her name.
Gwen waved her fingers in response. There was nothing to do now but walk over and speak to him.
‘Mrs Walters, I didn’t expect to see you. Is there something wrong?’
His face creased in concern. Gwen momentarily forgot why she had come.
‘No, nothing. I merely felt that our conversation ended abruptly and wanted to wish you well.’
Danny’s look of concern deepened, and he reached out to touch her shoulder before hastily pulling his arm back, though it left a smear of heat throbbing where his fingers had briefly rested. His eyes fell on the spot then flickered to the clerk, then back to Gwen.
‘Come into the library with me and we can talk in private,’ he said.
He led the way and Gwen followed. The room was empty, and he closed the door.
‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your poor niece. I went back to the area where I met you and I asked a few questions. Women will talk to other women more than to a strange man, I find.’
‘What on earth possessed you to do that!’ Danny asked sharply, stepping forward.
Gwen drew back, the memory of Archibald’s sudden flare of anger looming in her mind. Danny’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
‘Gwen, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He stepped backwards, hands outstretched and palms up. ‘I meant, I can’t believe you put yourself at risk. If anything had happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.’
‘Nothing happened, and in any case, the choice was mine,’ Gwen said.
It had been so long since anyone had shown such concern for her that she felt strangely fragile.
She closed her eyes and therefore didn’t see Danny reaching over to take her hand, only felt it, as his fingers closed around hers.
Her first thought was that she should pull away.
She was married and he shouldn’t be approaching her at all, let alone so intimately and so gently.
Her second, stronger, thought was that she wished she wasn’t wearing gloves because the kid leather stopped her truly feeling the gentleness of his hands, and she very much wanted to. She stared at his left hand and noticed the absence of a ring.
‘Aren’t you married?’ she asked, forcing a slight smile.
His face twisted into the first sign of bitterness Gwen had seen on it.
‘I was briefly engaged, but my fiancée jilted me for a man with more wealth and better status. It was painful in the extreme, as well as humiliating. That was eight years ago, and I haven’t felt inclined to try again.’